


It Loves Its Man and Munches Heads

by L_ecureuil



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alien Invasion, Eddie is learning to cook, F/M, I'm just a human disaster who should be writing a paper on politics, M/M, Mainly dialogue, Murder, Other, Venom came to have a good time and feels so attacked right now, people don't like, the Avengers are having a hard time with this, when you eat other people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-08-09 19:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_ecureuil/pseuds/L_ecureuil
Summary: “Either we’re looking at some rookie who thinks there were aliens and tested ugly things on homeless people, or there were actual aliens and he died because of them?” Tony said. “How did they die?”“That’s the biggest problem,” Natasha said, “We couldn’t find remnants of the bodies, but organ failure seems to be the core cause of death according to the older files, and then the cause changes in later filed 'to eaten from the inside.'”“Oh-kay,” Steve said, “I see why they want the Avengers involved.”





	1. Chapter 1

“There’s a monster made of tar walking around San Francisco,” Natasha said, “We don’t have any pictures but it’s been in the rumor mill for a while.”

  
“So, you’re saying there’s more proof of bigfoot than whatever this is?” Steve said, “Has anyone drawn a picture or you know, written a poem about it?”

 

“No, it’s newer than that,” Natasha deadpanned, not appreciating his humor in the moment, “A year ago there was a crash in Malaysia which lead to illegal human testing in California. We think there’s a co-relation ever since the CEO of the company died mysteriously in his lab. He was the one funding both projects. Recently files were found about the people he was studying but most of the information is blurry at best. All we know is that most people, usually homeless and nameless, didn’t survive the testing. SHIELD hasn’t been looking into it too hard because most of it were rumors and nothing seemed to come out of it until we found files connecting the death to the experiments.”

 

“Either we’re looking at some rookie who thinks there were aliens and tested ugly things on homeless people, or there were actual aliens and he died because of them?” Tony said. “How did they die?”

 

“That’s the biggest problem,” Natasha said, “We couldn’t find remnants of the bodies, but organ failure seems to be the core cause of death according to the older files, and then the cause changes in later filed 'to eaten from the inside.'”

 

“Oh-kay,” Steve said, “I see why they want the Avengers involved.”

 

“Most people from the experiment didn’t survive but we know one journalist who investigated this and lost his job for it,” Natasha said, “That’s why we need to figure out a team to interview him. He hasn’t changed address since.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve found himself knocking on the rundown door of a crappy apartment. The whole floor stank of smoke and mildew and he wondered if the city ever ran health tests in this neighborhood. He tugged on his baseball cap, checking on Natasha who was wearing a leopard print bustier dress and sunglasses.

 

Something crashed on the other side of the door, followed by swearing and mumbling. Steve was able to give one last eyebrow raise to Natasha before the door was pulled open. The smell of cooking hitting them--some kind of meat dish with a weird rancid smell beside it.

 

A man, unshaven and tired looking wore a hoodie and jeans. He looked like he’d been a model once but had to live in the woods for a while since and those years took away his youth and good nature.

 

“What is it?” the guy said, who Steve recognized as Eddie Brock from the video files on his old talk show. A shattered plate covered the kitchen floor. “You look familiar,” he said, “This better not be an intervention.”

 

Steve shrugged, “Sort of. We’re here investigating the Drake case around the missing homeless people and mysterious murders,” he said, “My colleague and I heard you were looking into it a year ago. Eddie Brock, right? I’m Steve and this is Natasha.”

 

“That kind of intervention,” Eddie said, “Yeah, sure, come in,” he said, motioning for them to take the couch. “Sorry for the mess. I should put the oven on low, just give me a second.”

 

As he left, Natasha turned to Steve, “He’s a freelance journalist now but I don’t see any files around. Do you think he has a workplace?”

 

Eddie came back, plopping himself in a sofa across from them.

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

Steve shrugged, “Whatever you have. We’re thinking there might be aliens involved and we’re curious.”

 

Eddie laughed in his hand, “Yeah, sure, whatever you want,” he said, “There were aliens, I saw them. They were being forced into people and a lot of them died because it wasn’t enough. They weren’t bonding. Drake thought he could take one and that was fine, but it’s a cannibal alien race, you know. One of the other aliens ate. Everything just kind of blew up. The aliens didn’t survive.”

 

Natasha leaned in, “Why didn’t you report it, then? You could have made money off of this story.”

 

Eddie looked to the ceiling for patience, “I’m not well. It was shocking, there’s a lot I don’t know. I’ve been schizophrenic since then--well, that would be my diagnosis if I could afford a health plan. Plus, I started my career writing mindless conspiracy theories for knock off magazines. You think anyone’s going to believe me? There’s a video on Youtube of me eating a live lobster, man. I’m not exactly considered trustworthy in the journalistic world anymore.”

 

“That sucks,” Steve said, leaning, “Look, we’re just wondering because we’re afraid one got loose and we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

 

“You want to know about the aliens I saw,” Eddie said, “Sure. They’re multicoloured, goopy, um,” he seemed to be thinking of words to describe them, “They eat each other and people. I don’t know what to tell you.”

 

“Were they a hive mind?” Steve said, “Did they all die when the leader died?”

 

Eddie shrugged, “Don’t know enough. They weren’t like the ones in New York a couple years ago,” he looked at them pointedly, or maybe that was just Steve’s imagination. “Fuck, my stew is boiling over,” he said, getting up, “You guys have a good day. I don’t feel like an interrogation right now. I have enough on my plate,”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Upon leaving, Steve turned to Natasha, “So?”

 

“He didn’t seem well,” Natasha said, “He was pale and he had some bruises on his wrists and neck. He might be self-harming. I couldn’t tell.”

 

“If he’s off the list, who else is there?” Steve asked.

 

“His ex-girlfriend was the person he stole files from about the deaths. We should go to her next,” Natasha said.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The house they walked up to was definitely higher end then the entire neighborhood they’d just left. Steve could feel the Christmas spirit wafting up from the cedars and multicoloured lights up front. This house was a bit smaller a version of the American dream. He could see himself retiring in a place like this.

 

Natasha had put on a jacket which hid her bosom, changing with the kind of place they thought they were in. She knocked musically on the front door.

 

A pregnant woman answered, “Hello!” Then she turned around to call into the house, “Dan, are we expecting company?” A reasoning, yet good natured no came in response.

 

“We’re, uh, New York City reporters here to ask some questions about the Drake case,” Steve said, “Is this a bad time?”

 

Anne’s eyes rounded spectacularly, “No, I mean, we just ate so come in, come in,” she held the door aloft, peering behind them and closing it when they were through.

 

“I’m Anne and my fiancée Dan is in the kitchen. I’ll go get him. Make yourself at home,” she said, pointing to the sitting area.

 

Soon enough they were all crowded on couches, a cat putting itself at Steve’s arm and looking at him critically.

 

“Right, so, this is unexpected. I could have put together a whole file beforehand if I knew,” Anne said mournfully.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said. He knew Natasha was letting him do the talking because he was less threatening than her. Despite being a master of disguise, she always seemed like she wanted to kill at least one person in every room. “We want to know about the alien.”

 

“Oh God,” Anne said.

 

Dan grimaced, “Well, I was the first to find it with an MRI.”

 

“Were you working for Drake?” Natasha asked.

 

“No, a friend of ours had it in him. It was eating him alive,” Dan said.

 

Steve froze, “What did you do?”

 

“A high frequency sound made it separate. It didn’t like it,” Dan said.

 

“This friend of yours, is he still alive?” Natasha asked.

 

“Yes,” Anne said, “Eddie’s fine. It was a scare.”

 

Steve felt his blood run cold, “Wait, Eddie Brock?”

 

Anne’s smile was tired, “The very same. I had it in me too at some point.”

 

“What was it like?” Steve said, “What was the alien like?”

 

“Intelligent,” Anne said, “It speaks in your mind and tells you what it wants. It’s not really a mind controller, although I’m sure it could be if it wanted. It’s like a parasite with a walkie talkie.”

 

“And what did it say to you?” Steve said.

 

“It wanted Eddie,” Anne said, feeling her cheeks colour, “It was obsessed with Eddie and food. It asked how Eddie was, where he was. It made me save him from Drake when he was being tortured,” she said.

 

“Eddie was taken by Drake?” Steve said.

 

“Yeah, and the alien bonded with him again and killed Drake and the other aliens,” Anne said, “Then it died in the cold and we haven’t heard from it since.”

 

Natasha’s lips were in a thin line.

 

“What is it?” Dan asked.

 

“It’s not what Eddie told us,” Steve said, “We interviewed him an hour ago and he said he didn’t know anything.”

 

Anne closed her eyes, “He’s been off since it all happened. He talks to himself a lot.”

 

“Yeah, the schizophrenia,” Steve said, “He told us about it.”

 

“He didn’t tell us!” Anne said panicking, “If I knew he was sick I would have found a way to pay for his medication. Dan knows where to get budget antipsychotics. Why wouldn’t he tell us?”

 

Steve didn’t know what to say, “He’s your ex. Maybe he didn’t want to ask?”

 

Anne looked torn, receiving support from Dan, “I’m so angry at him, he should have told us. We’re the closest he has to family.”

 

“You said the alien was obsessed with Eddie,” Natasha said, “Do you mean it wanted to eat him?”

 

Dan coughed a laugh, “It’s pretty awkward, actually. It was in love with him,” that earned him an elbow in the rib from Anne.

 

“It wasn’t in love!” she protested like she’d had this conversation before.

 

“Anne, it made out with him in your body!” Dan said, “It called Eddie its own and sacrificed itself for him. People don’t just do that. I would have believed it if I hadn’t seen them, but these aliens weren’t exactly soft and sentimental. They ate people. When I told Eddie it was eating it, it felt bad and tried to reverse things.”

 

“This is getting weirder and weirder,” Steve said, sitting back.

 

“What does the alien look like?” Natasha asked.

 

“Teeth,” Dan said, mimicking them with his fingers, “Teeth and black goo. I can draw you it if you want,” he reached for a notepad on the side table and made a really bad sketch of two bug eyes on black and tendrils everywhere.

 

“And how did Eddie feel when it died?” Natasha asked.

 

“He was devastated,” Anne said, “This thing was a mess but it tried to take care of him and they would talk all the time.”

 

Natasha paused, “While it was in his body? What did that look like?”

 

“He talked to it like you would a regular person, but unless it was outside his body, he looked like he was just talking to himself.”

 

Natasha looked to Steve, “What if he’s not schizophrenic? He wouldn’t want to be medicated if he was lying about a disease.”

 

Anne and Dan fell silent.

 

“Oh shit,” Dan said, “We need to test him. What if the symbiote is still there?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ll go make tea,” Anne said, swatting away Dan’s protest with her wrist. A heavy, twisted feeling erupted in her gut, the feeling almost made her double over. After starting the kettle, she slipped her phone out from her pocket, shakily turning the ringer off and any indication of what she was doing. She wanted to call, but she knew being verbal would only tip off the people in the living room no matter how wrong it felt to text something so important.

 

Anne: _Eddie, the journalists are in our living room. They think you have Venom._

Eddie: _Fuck nuggets, Anne, why did you tell them?_

Anne: _Dan and I thought we were helping with an investigation. Why didn’t you tell us about Venom? Why did you lie?_

Eddie: _I can’t answer right now. Those people are the Avengers. Captain America and that KGB agent woman. They punch first when they have a target. I’m not giving them anything. It will hurt them. We need to go._

Anne: _Go where?_

Eddie: _I can’t tell you. I can’t risk its life. Stay safe. Please._

 

Anne whimpered into her hand. The kettle had long finished boiling and yet she felt cold, the coldness of having hurt a friend, a Novocain guilt leading Anne to her feel like she was floating out of her body. She knew who was in her living room now and she’d just given them her friend, her six-year fiancé, she’d given up his safety without realizing the threat.

 

“Anne?” Dan called.

 

Her voice cracked, “Just a minute!” she said, realizing at once that she didn’t know what Dan had told them when she was in the kitchen. She had to make a decision.

 

Returning to the living room, Anne faced off Natasha and Steve, arms crossed, her poor mood showing in the creases of her lips and the glassy edge of her eyes. “Don’t. Hurt. Eddie,” she said, her voice hard.

 

Steve’s eyes widened, “We’re just researching the aftermath. Calm down, Ma'am” and his voice was soothing to be sure but, it was an impossible task. Anne had just sold out her friend.

 

“And I don’t want KGB agents in my house,” Anne said, her voice more vulnerable than she meant it to be, “I want you to go and leave Eddie alone. Get. Out.”

 

Natasha stood up, her face as impassive as ever. She’d been off this entire time, but now Anne understood why. She was facing a trained killer. Two, to be exact, “We’re doing this for the safety of this city.”

 

Anne laughed, she couldn’t help it, tonight was a train wreck of bad choices and laughing at murderess seemed like all she could do. Anne realized she had two other people to protect, one in the womb and one on the couch, but it just came out of her lungs, cynical and corrupt, merciless. “Get out of my house.”

 

“Natasha isn’t wrong, we’re just here to make sure things are safe,” Steve said.

 

“You heard my fiancée,” Dan said, getting up, placing a comforting hand on the small of Anne's back, “She doesn’t want you here. You’re not welcome. Please, we don’t want trouble. Just leave us alone.”

 

“We should go,” Natasha said, speaking to Steve only.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, looking lost. He was used to people being welcoming, even in New York. Having Americans of their soil looking at him like he’d killed their mothers felt wrong on so many levels. He wanted to apologize but they weren’t having any of it. Anything he did at this point was just a threat to their wishes and safety. He was making them feel unsafe. He knew he could take both of them easily, especially Dan who looked like he’d never thrown a punch in his life, but it wasn’t right. Steve had to remind himself why he was here.

 

“Right, uh, bye,” Steve said, walking hastily out with Natasha into the bitter autumn, leaves flashing across his tortured vision. Steve opened his mouth to thank them for the tea or something, but Natasha put a hand across it, silencing him with a single, poisonous look.

 

* * *

 

 

 Natasha met him at the end of the street, “Nick says we need to check back on Eddie Brock. We can’t let unknown cannibals in our atmosphere.”

 

“W-what about polar bears?” Steve said. “They eat their young, and we’re not getting rid of them. We don’t even know if this is a threat or if Eddie Brock is possessed. This doesn’t feel right, Natasha.”

 

Natasha bit her lip, looking up at the looming streetlight, but Steve could tell she was only giving him pleasantries, offering him seconds of silent hope, because her mind was made up. This was an ordered mission, not an arguable cross road.

 

“Maybe we should send different agents. They were afraid of us back there,” Steve pleaded, his hands out grasping for any reprieve.

 

Natasha shook her head, “The transfer would arrive too late. We need to check on him. Don’t make this into an argument, Steve,” she said. “This could be a matter of life and death.”

 

And there was nothing Steve could say.

 

* * *

 

 

When they arrived at Brock’s apartment, Steve noticed the lights were out upstairs. When they knocked, no one answered so Natasha pulled her hair back and picked the lock.

 

Inside, the apartment was empty. Brock’s bed was without sheets, there were ashes on the floor of papers he clearly didn’t want them to see. In the bathroom, the sheets, toothbrushes, clothes and bedding were all in the tub, lying in some corrosive chemical soup which dissolved them slowly, killing all traces of his genetic makeup.

 

“Where do you think he went?” Steve said.

 

“I’m sending the police to the Weying household,” Natasha said, “They’ll check there.”

 

That didn’t sit well with Steve but he didn’t argue. “We need to see what the last thing he searched through this IP address, he might have bought plane tickets or rented a car,” Steve said. “Does the alien fly?”

 

Natasha took samples of the curtains, “We don’t know anything about it yet. But we know its name now: Symbiote."


	3. Chapter 3

The last time Eddie went homeless he’d been eleven. He couldn’t stand his dad’s griping, guilt tripping and sin fearing so he’d run away with a packet of jerky and his favourite stuffie. The woods had been wet with a downpour of movie set proportions. Hidden under a crescent moon, he regretted leaving knowing it left his body weaker. His father didn’t like weakness from boys, he didn’t want them to offer anything emotionally either. Eddie had decided in that hypothermic moment, burning cold drops lighting his eyelashes and bluish lips, that he wouldn’t be like his father. When he was grounded later, later after his neighbour found him on their property, he’d sat in the bath with a dictionary. He ran his fingers across all the words his dad and uncles used as insults: _feminist, pussy, socialist, welfare queen_ and many other unspeakable words, and took it upon himself to become his father’s personal nightmare, holding it inside until he could move out. It made Eddie good at gathering information and keeping them inside. So long he’d waited to open his mouth that when he did, he made a show of it. By then he had way more enemies than just his dad. His bisexual ass had been threatened by most of Fox News, banned from being viewed in four countries and Infowars once did a segment on how Eddie’s face made men gay. That one was so funny Eddie watched it whenever he needed to boost his mood over a beer. 

 

Eddie Brock refused to be bullied by hate groups and criminals. If he was going to wreak havoc on the Avengers’ mission he had to be two steps ahead with a contingency plan and nowhere to be found. He would only emerge when he knew he could meet them as equals. 

 

Eddie had thrust his phone halfway down the wild rice bin when the Bulk Barn employee addressed him. He felt his adrenaline flick up. Since Venom joined him, he'd become much more sound sensitive. Every sound felt like a rocket in his ear.

 

“Every time you come in here you buy chocolate and I appreciate it because you know, profit, but I’m legitimately concerned about you, man. There are other coping mechanisms outside of chocolate,” the Bulk Barn employee called up from their work desk, “If you need me to call a help-line, if you want to talk about it—”

 

Eddie tuned them out and them him off, “Yeah yeah, how much for a suitcase full of chocolate?” Eddie asked while sifting through bills, “I need the most for my money’s worth.”

 

“Are you serious right now?” the employee said. “I know how fast you go through that stuff. You’ll be hospitalized by the end of the day!”

 

**Eddddie, if we eat them the chocolate is free. Not money’s worth. Two for one. We shhhhould.**

 

Eddie regretted trying to explain bulk sales to his other, “I know you mean well,” Eddie said, rubbing dry his knuckles, “I really do,” he didn't know he was responding too. It didn't matter.

 

**But we should eat away their tongue and lips so they doesn’t give any more bad advice. Their face makes us angry. They hurts your feelings every time. We feel it. It eats you.**

 

This was the worst time to commit a crime and make himself noticeable, so Eddie held back, “I need to be somewhere, just sell me the goods,” Eddie said. He could feel Venom nudging at his body, tightening around his middle like a compress where it posed as a shirt. Luckily it was underneath his sweater, snaking around his ribs for comfort. A long night awaited them and Eddie needed his center warm. He doubted they would be sleeping indoors anytime soon. Not after he burned half his apartment.

 

Eddie smacked a hand over his collarbone when Venom tried to creep up, probably to threaten to massacre the employee. Eddie could already imagine the situation, Venom hissing something along the lines of ‘I will liquefy your corpse and sell it as jello powder. No one will know the difference,’ sometimes Eddie wondered what he did in his past life to get this one.

 

“Stop acting like I'm buying drugs. It’s chocolate for a Halloween party.” 

 

“No offense but you don’t really look like you have a social life,” the employee said, running it through the cash.

 

**That’s it. They die now.**

 

“Thanks for the insults, but I'm tight on time,” Eddie said, “Take care. Try not to get eaten tonight,” he meant _beaten_ but it was all the same thing at this point.

 

“Wait, what?” 

 

“Nothing,” Eddie said, head down and exiting to his left, his suitcase at his heels and his hoodie up. One thing was clear, they couldn’t leave any traces of violence behind them. The longer they could sustain themselves on other things, the less likely they would need to rip someone off the earth.

 

Every killing was a wink to the Avengers. He would do this completely clean, keeping the monster on lock down until they forced his hand. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't a single problem in this story that couldn’t be solved immediately by any two X-Men and a paper clip dispenser. Good thing I'm only limiting this to one mutant.  
> Any guesses on who the expert on symbiotes will be?

 

Natasha’s earpiece buzzed to life, and she could hear someone clicking their monitor into place. Strangely, she recognized the style of typing from the person at the other end. The way they paused between beats mimicked their thought patterns which were all over the place from the sound of them. 

 

Just as she guessed, Tony Stark’s voice crackled in, “I’m currently projecting over the city for the cellular tracking. This is way below my pay grade. Five blocks away, he’s in a Bulk Barn. I hacked the cameras and I think he’s no longer there but I want his phone, it might give us information. Fingerprints, you know the deal. Shake down the person behind the desk in case they've got something on him.”

 

Natasha bagged the curtain bits, filing them into a pack she kept in her jacket, evidence for later. “Have you found anything about the alien?”

 

“Yup,” Tony said, popping the ‘p,’ “We’re shipping in an expert in under 48 hours. It took some teeth pulling but I found a good one. Thor here has some things to say about it too. Isn’t that right, buddy? I’m putting this on speaker phone.”

 

“Hello!” Thor said jovially, “I’m a projection so we don’t have much time to bond.”

  
“Thor, tell her what you told me.”

 

Thor cleared his throat like he was preparing for a soliloquy, “Back in time, when humanity was in the sixth century after the common age, I fought The Great Dragon Grendel who ate many of my men.” The way he said it was conversational, like he'd been coming back from a regular errand when he'd fought an entire dragon with Vikings with the same ease as skipping rocks. 

  
  
“We’re running out of time,” Natasha said pressing the speaker further into her ear, “What’s the point?”

 

“It was one of them, the alien you are looking for.”

 

“It’s a dragon?” Natasha prompted. “You’re saying we’re fighting a dragon in Eddie Brock?”

 

“No, not this one. The dragon was possessed by symbiote.”

 

“What killed it?” Natasha deadpanned.

 

“My divine lightning!”

 

Tony snorted, “Anything can die by your divine lightning. That’s not a big tip.”

 

“Well, it didn’t die,” Thor said.

 

Tony said, “So wait, you don’t know how to kill it?”

 

“If I hit it with more lightening!” Thor started, “It might die dead if I hit it again!”

  
  
Tony cut in more for Natasha's sake, “Oh, Thor is tuning out.”

 

Sure enough, “Goodbye, friends! Say hello to Pepper for me.”

 

Tony sighed into the mike, “It was more convincing the first time,” he promised Natasha, “When our expert comes in we’ll get a full reading. SHIELD is keeping a tight lip about symbiotes and they’re not responding to my voicemails so I'm sort of going over their heads.”

 

Natasha’s lip pinched in the corner, “I can’t help you there. I’m not part of the space research sector. Mostly.”

 

Tony bit into something on the other side of the line, something crunchy and juicy, making Natasha wince.

 

“I can’t stand your chewing right now. If you talk into my ear with that, I'll kill you,” Natasha said, “Over and out.”    

 

Cracking her neck, Natasha looked around for Steve who was sifting through the fridge.

 

“I thought there would be weird alien things in here,” Steve said, “But all I find is beer and like mutton brain. His drawers over there are packed with cocoa powder in travel sizes. He has a freezer full of miscellaneous ziplocks and frozen food. Sorry, it's distracting. What's the situation? Do we know anything about the alien?”

 

“Not yet,” Natasha said, “Only that Thor once fought a dragon version of it and Stark’s bringing in an expert. But we know Brock left his phone in the nearest Bulk Barn.”

 

Steve was about to ask but she watched his question make a semi circle around his head and just leave him confused.

 

“Someone might have seen him there,” Natasha finished.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bulk Barn was just about to close, the only employee left was cleaning up the counters. The whole street around had lowered lights and even the traffic had thinned so much that Steve knew he could cross the street without looking and suffer only a small chance of injury.

 

Natasha opened the door for Steve and let him wave Tony’s device like a Geiger counter, following the quickening clicks to their destination.

 

“We’re closing. One minute left,” the employee called over their bleach rag.

 

Steve found himself facing the wild rice bin due to the erratic mechanical screaming. He popped the lid and with the scoop, felt around. The rice clunked.

 

“Found it!” he said to Natasha, “He put it in the wild rice,” Steve scooped the flip phone from the bin and brandished it for her to see.

 

The employee was watching with googly eyes, “Are--did you just find that in a food bin? Did you put that there?” Steve could feel the Bulk Barn guy getting protective.

 

“No, we’re looking for someone and he dropped this in the container. We’re, uh, from Interpol,” Steve said and kept with it, walking up to the employee with his best impression of a cop, “Did you notice any suspicious behaviour tonight?”

 

“Nothing weirder than normal,” The employee said looking uncomfortable by Steve’s sheer bulk or the possibility of police, Steve couldn't tell.

 

Natasha opened her phone and showed the man a shot of Eddie Brock from Tony’s file, “We’re looking for this man.”

 

“I knew he wasn’t normal,” The employee said, “He’s always strange and I don't understand him.”

 

“Did you learn anything about him? What was suspicious?” Steve pressed, leaning over the counter.

 

“He just bought a suitcase full of chocolate like he was going out with it. He’s bought chocolate on binge before but most people don’t bring in an entire suitcase!” The employee flailed their arms. “That was a hundred and twenty dollars worth--that’s more than I have for the next two weeks for groceries. What is he doing with that much chocolate?”

 

“Did you notice anything else suspicious about him?”

 

“Other than he talks to himself sometimes and always wears the same two sweaters? Nope, he’s just your regular crazy.”

 

“Nothing… alien?”

 

“What are we talking about?” the employee said, “Are you really Interpol or are you looking to kick people out of the country because I’m not following.”

 

Natasha looked like she was trying to stifle a headache. It wasn’t easy to read her expressions since she tried for a blank slate most days but with the way her eye was twitching Steve knew she wasn’t doing well. Superhumans got migraines too sometimes.

 

“Thanks for the information,” Steve said clasping the employee’s shoulder, “We’re looking out for his health. Don’t worry, we don’t have any interest in hurting him.”

 

Steve wasn’t sure if he was just telling himself that, all he knew is that nothing about their investigation felt right.


	5. Chapter 5

 

 _We were supposed to get a fake ID and change our identities_ , _not this,_ Eddie thought nervous and panicking. If Symby's emotions weren’t there, Eddie would full on hyperventilate. It wasn't just the fake ID but the whole idea of being hunted again. Also falling meant plunging into the ocean. 

 

**You don’t trust us. Humans don’t see our form.**

 

Venom scratched into the side of the massive yacht, blending into the shadows of it having chosen the side the moon couldn’t reach. They jumped the side and propelled themselves up into the rear. No one would be showing up until seven in the morning the next day, all that matters was that they weren’t there at the moment.

 

The distant talk of sailors and illegal deals being done at the port touched Venom's ears, important exchanges they didn't have time to deliberate on. 

 

_If we hide in the machinery we’ll suffer from the sound._

 

**That’s why we’re taking a room.**

 

_But there’s only a master suite?_

 

* * *

 

 

Hurling into orbit, the sleek space pod hit New York Harbour with a contained force spreading out automatically to hide the coarseness of its impact. Tony watched as his machinery reeled in the pod and propped it onto dry land. The seal popped, unlocking the person hidden inside. from it a leather boot stuck out the door then another attached to longer legs, auburn hair and neon green skin. His expert was as beautiful and scary as Starlord described her. Despite her past, Tony really believed Gamora would be the best he could ask for for the job.

 

* * *

 

 

Up in Stark Tower, Tony showed Gamora around, offering all kinds of foods and drinks for her to recuperate from her journey.

 

“We’re looking for a symbiote which escaped experimentation. We can’t protect Earth if we don’t know what it is,” Tony explained.

 

“Am I being paid for information or for killing it?” Gamora said, hand resting on her blaster holster.

 

She leaned back on the wall, every bit the motions of a 40’s gangster film, all she needed was a cigarette holder and fedora. When she leaned her head, the illuminated facial scars changing colours as the shadows hit them. She was truly a gorgeous woman, and there was no doubt she fit into the bracket of most dangerous people in the Universe.

 

Tony would have been happy finding a different, less dangerous galaxy traveler but he didn’t have many intergalactic contacts, much less ones he knew who could get the job done.

 

“Both. We’ll put together a contract,” Tony said lazily, though he was clearly pressed for time by the way he fidgeted. “I have people in the field right now trying to find it and I need to know what they’re in danger of.”

 

“You’re asking how dangerous symbiotes are?” Gamora clarified.

 

“Well, yes,” Tony said, “That’s kind of the point.”

 

Gamora grinned at him in a way which said ‘oh, you poor innocent idiot.’

 

Gamora leaned in with her arms still crossed. Tony almost thought she would push her nose to his she was that close, “Do your people have guns?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony said.

 

“Useless,” Gamora said.

 

“What’s their strongest weapon?”

 

“A vibranium shield,” Tony said like it was a trick question.

 

“Nope, cutting it in half wouldn’t kill it. You’d just make another.”

 

“What about electricity?” Tony said.

 

“Now you’re getting it,” Gamora said. “It has three weaknesses, sound, fire and electricity. If you try anything else you’re at risk for an invasion. Once it’s on a planet it’s almost impossible to get rid of. Entire galaxies pray that they’ll never meet one. There are religions around this,” Gamora said. “You understand what I’m saying?”

 

“So it’s a practically unkillable parasite?”

 

Gamora hummed in agreement, “It’s the worst damn parasite you’ll ever meet. If it doesn’t work with you it’ll eat you from the inside, and even then it needs to feed on other flesh in order to keep itself from eating you. Symbiotes reproduce asexually and work in hives. You’re lucky if you can kill one with your little toys. A place as dumb as Earth is more likely to blow up the entire planet than to get rid of a single symbiote.”

 

Tony couldn’t help but laugh, “That’s the reason we need you! Space keeps attacking us and we barely know what we’re fighting against half the time. It might be nice if they faxed us beforehand.”

 

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Gamora said raising a shoulder, “Whatever a fax is.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said, “It’s too last century,” he pulled a screen out of the air and expanded it with his fingertips, “Just, uh, write up your terms and I’ll look over them.” Tony went back to his work giving her space. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who liked having people watch her do her thing. Fierce independence rolled off her in waves.

 

She read out her contract, checking her notes from her own technology belt. He suspected she didn’t know how to write in English so he kept the contract on a comprehensive vocal mechanism with options. Gamora caught on without a second look. A thief needed to be practical and ready for any new frontier.

 

“Done,” she said, “Now where’s the symbiote?”

 

Tony starting pacing, tinkering with a project as he did, “That’s the thing, we lost it. We only found its person was possessed after it ran away.”

 

“What do you know about it?” Gamora said.

 

“It’s been on Earth for a year and it’s mostly been in one person, the current,” Tony made a lost motion, trying to grasp the word from the air.

 

“Host,” she supplied.

 

“Yeah, we know its host. It apparently likes this one a lot, someone even said its in love with its host,” Tony said, shifting the screen to turn it to her.

 

“Unlikely,” Gamora said, “They’re completely aromantic and asexual.”

 

Tony showed her a picture of Eddie Brock.

 

“He’s not... impressive,” Gamora said, “Why would it choose him?”

 

“If we knew that we’d be set.”

 

“It might be a weaker one,” Gamora said, “We can’t expect there to only be one on Earth. They reproduce fast. If we catch this one we can get into its mind and see what else its connected to. I’ve never tried it but it’s worth testing.”

 

“You’re telepathic?”

 

“No, but you have a psychic, don’t you?”

 

“When we catch it I’ll call her from Tahiti,” Tony said, reading over the contract quickly. When his eyes shot up to meet her's he said, “Do we have a deal?”

 

Gamora held out her hand and practically strangled his with her grip, “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So I said, self-care is throwing myself into a lake!” Peter said to his screen.

 

Tony quirked an eyebrow at Peter, “What did we say about technology? You’re grounded, remember?”

 

Peter whipped around, “It’s work, I promise, sir!”

 

“ _Heeeey_ ,” Shuri said from Peter’s phone, “The tin man is back. Call me when you need some advice for work, yeah?”

 

“Absolutely,” Peter said, upon noticing Gamora he got up, said goodbye to Shuri and held out his hand, “Hi! You’re from the Guardians! I’m really--I’m so--I’m a fan,” he said, grinning like he hadn’t tripped over all of that. Gamora side eyed his hand but didn’t shake it.

 

“Right,” she said, “I thought you didn’t know anything about space,” she said, meaning human altogether.

 

“We met Starlord. He talked about your team a whole lot,” Tony said, “Nothing about the whole space program, mostly just something about a burrito and sick burns. It was kinda unclear.”

 

She rolled her eyes fondly then motioned to Peter, “What’s with the kid?”

 

“He’s grounded so I’m putting him on research duty while we look for the alien,” Stark said. “He’s running facial recognition software so we can find Brock on any security camera imaginable. We also have ads going around and an information hotline.”

“I don’t get why we need a hotline, sir,” Peter said.

 

“It’s for the 50+ population,” Stark said, “You’d be surprised how keen grandma’s eyes are when she’s taking a rest on the old front porch.”

 

“But,” Peter said, “How are we supposed to let him integrate back into society if we’re putting his face everywhere?”

 

“We’ll worry about that when we find him,” Tony said, “The alien needs to be caught and removed first.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gamora in this verse isn't actually an expert on Symbiotes, she's just the best Tony can contact. Since she hasn't experienced everything from the comics in MCU I'm leaning mostly on the movies and Earth-12041 with hints of the comics. She knows a bit but she’s too stubborn to admit what she doesn’t know. It’s like asking a regular person about leeches. Some scientists could give you really detailed descriptions of leeches and their varying characteristics but the regular person just knows ‘ew, icky, bad,’ and how to kill one. Gamora isn't the scientist in this situation. 
> 
> Also due to the violent aftermath she has seen, Gamora doesn't know they're hyper-intelligent sentient life-forms. To her they were, but became feral.


	6. Chapter 6

 

**_13 days later…_ **

 

“Peter, you need to wake up. I brought you a coffee. Peter,” Shuri’s voice filtered through Peter’s ringing ears. Hooking his nose on his arm, he blinked up at his computer only to see text boxes.

 

“How d’you bring me a coffee if you’re in the screen?” Peter slurred, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.

Someone flicked him on the ear, making him jump towards the ceiling with a confused web flicked somewhere near the tube lights.

 

“Wh—” he said hanging upside-down only to be met with Shuri’s pretty brown eyes.

 

“I told you I was coming to visit to check up on you,” she said, putting his coffee down and sipping her own, “You told me last night no one found Brock anywhere and you needed something, anything,” she said. “So, I’m here, like an angel.”

 

Peter lowered himself to the floor and took the coffee thankfully, leaning into its fumes while cross legged on the tiles.

 

Shuri sat across from him on the floor, gazing at him patiently, “When did you last sleep?”

 

“Negative sleep hours,” Peter said, “Too many calls keep waking me up, don’t know. This isn’t a good summer job. I wanna work somewhere normal, like Dunkin’ Donuts,” he squinted at her.

 

Shuri rubbed at her chin, looking off to the side like she was deconstructing the very walls around them, “I’ll call Stark to tell him his work hours are illegal after you nap.”

 

The phone rang again.

 

“Probably the crazy guy,” Peter said, “The guy who keeps making up stories about Eddie Brock. He calls twice a day minimum and I’m really starting to rethink being a hero because of him—I swear.”

 

“Making up stories?” Shuri said skeptically.

 

“Yeah,” Peter said after sucking in more coffee, “I read Brock’s file and dug up everything and this guy keeps making up things Brock did that don’t work with his history. I told the guy to politely to buzz off, but he keeps calling.”

 

“What kind of things?” Shuri said.

 

“Like that Brock’s ex-wife died even though he’s never been married and that Brock’s Spider-Man’s arch nemesis—which I can personally attest, Brock isn’t—I barely know him. This phone guy is crazy, Shuri,” Peter complained, whining in his fatigue, “What can I do to make him stop?”

 

“What have you done about him?” Shuri asked.

 

“I told him to stop calling, that he’s being distracting to an actual investigation and that I’m tired of his conspiracy theories.”

 

“You’re right that he is probably a falsity maker,” Shuri said, “But he might be working for Brock to tire you. We should invite him to a safe location and interview him once and for all. It might give you some peace of mind. But first, go to sleep on the couch, I’ll take over for now.”

 

Peter looked like he wanted to cry or hug her or both.

 

“Don’t get so excited. I might not find anything,” Shuri started but upon seeing him curled into the couch like he was ready to make out with it, she held back the rest of her words. She’d save them for when she was properly ready to confront Stark. That man did not know how to take care of a teenager, much less himself.

 

“Let’s see,” Shuri cracked her knuckles in time with the phone’s first ring. In her periphery she saw Peter moan and cover his head with a pillow.

 

Taking up the phone, Shuri answered, “Hello, this is the find Eddie Brock hotline.”

 

“Hey,” The man at the other end said, “You’re not the regular guy! That’s good, he’s useless.”

 

“Are you the man who keeps feeding us tall tales about Brock?”

 

“Yessir—m’am,” he said, “Captain. Captain is gender neutral. I don’t know you so I can’t tell what you call yourself. Oh man, I could have just asked but I already opened my mouth shiiiiit,” he squeaked, “Sorry, captain.”

 

“Captain is fine,” Shuri assured, “I’ve heard you have quite the information.”

 

“I know a lot about the issues,” he responded a little too joyfully.

 

Shuri eased back into the chair, “We would like to request an interview with you to get a fuller picture. Are you in New York City?”

 

“Yup, and I’m free all the time,” he said, “Even on lunch breaks! Well, they’re not breaks if they’re just lunch and I don’t have anything for the rest of the day.” His voice was like a balloon fizzling out. Shuri was sure when she met him he’d qualify for most punchable face along with most annoying man alive and men were naturally annoying.

 

“What about tomorrow at twelve thirty at Nish Nush on 88 Reade St.?”

 

“I like how you think, Captain,” he said, “How do you feel about red tighty whities? Because my style is mix between edgelord colours and the Power Rangers. I just want to warn you.”   

 

“As long as you come dressed, I won’t get you arrested,” Shuri said, hung up and unplugged the phone. “There,” she said. No one useful was going to call that phoneline if they didn’t understand email. The whole hotline idea was practically Neolithic.

 

“World wide web,” Shuri said, pushing a couple energy drinks out of the way to get to the keyboard, “If I were a man with an alien, where would I go?”

 

That’s when she found it.  
 

* * *

 

 

After the fifth time Gamora had to take a ship back to the Guardians for a mission and return to Earth to look at nothing, Tony was about to give up. What was the harm, he told himself, in easing up and giving Brock an off day? He wasn’t making a racket and they didn’t know if he was even still alive. For all they knew, the alien had already shed his body and moved onto another.

 

“Don’t you have a way to track him?” Tony said as Gamora's form came to light from a sort of beaming machine.

 

“We’ve been over this,” she said, “We don’t have a hive mind, the alien is untraceable and humans are too backwards to have anything that differentiates you for the type of tracking device we use in the cosmos.”

 

“We’d plug his DNA in if we could but we don’t have a sample,” Tony said. “If we just knew the genetics of the symbiote—”

 

“They don’t have bodies in the normal sense,” Gamora cut him off, “And the good, pure Klyntar are nearly extinct. Any alternative to them is a suicide mission.”

 

Tony walked motioned for her to walk with him and she did, although absently. Her mind seemed a million miles away, and nowhere on the current problem.

 

Something rubbed him wrong, “Klyntar? What is that?”

 

Gamora’s lips tightened, pained, “I shouldn’t… it’s nothing.”

 

“You know an alien who could find them?”

 

“No,” Gamora said, “No, the Klyntar aren’t another alien. It’s our name for symbiote. I only knew what species you were talking about by the description, but otherwise they’re known as Klyntar.”

 

Tony paused, “You’re telling me you know more about the species we’ve been looking for for two weeks and you never mentioned it? Is this about money?” he turned on her, “Are you dragging this out so I pay you more?”

 

Gamora’s expression hardened, “I don’t want to be here,” she said, “Earth is boring and I could make twice as much money on another job in an instant. I’m only doing this because it means something to Starlord.”

 

“Then why are you withholding something like this?”

 

“Because it’s about Thanos!” she burst out, “It’s him. It’s all him. He’s the one who destroyed Klyntar, he’s the one who tested on them,” she spat, “If it wasn’t for him they wouldn’t have gone rogue but he _destroyed their minds_.”

 

Tony leaned his arm against a door frame, bowing his head in its crook.

 

“He did this,” Tony said despondently, “ _Fantastic._ Fucking fantastic,” he looked over at her but his eyes missed her’s by a margin, “You know, that’s why I took this job,” he said.

 

“So, did I,” she admitted uncomfortably, “I couldn’t let him win long after he’s dead. When I heard what you found, I needed to make it right.”

 

“I can’t let him destroy us after everything,” Tony said, “An alien which controls people’s minds and lives in them. I’ve been through that,” he said, “He used to send me dreams and messages. I saw his sickness, his will projected in me for years,” Tony said, placing a hand on his chest where his core craved and dispersed oil.

 

Gamora nodded solemnly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I’m here for you, I won’t let it happen again. I swear it by you, Tony Stark.”

 

As he contemplated how they could lose something so nasty on Earth, his communicator buzzed to life. “Peter,” he said like an automaton, his tongue heavy with repeating the same question over the week. “Did you find anything?”

 

“Peter is passed out,” Shuri responded into the speaker, “And before you raise your laser show, you did this by tiring him out. He should sue you for intern abuse.”  

 

Tony opened his mouth to respond but Shuri spoke first, “I found a lead,” she said, “And it appeared in the last hour.”

 

“What is it?” Gamora said, crowding around the communicator.

 

Shuri’s laugh rasped against the mic, “You won’t believe this. Eddie Brock made a Youtube channel. There’s no violence in his video, it’s just him ranting about your ethics to a thousand viewers. He disagrees with your advertisements,” Shuri said, “And I traced the address of his video to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.”


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

Peter ducked into the kitchen, grabbing the lunch meats, pickles, cheese and lettuce out of the fridge with some honey mustard to top. Upon hearing Aunt May enter he ducked his head to put the files on the counter, hoping she didn’t notice he was holding them between his teeth while making a mess sandwich. No such luck.

  
“You’re Spider-Man, not dog-man, use your arms or something,” she said, coming over to steal a piece of salami. Gulping it down, she looked at the file.

  
“Who’s this hottie? A new recruit?” she said, tilting her glasses to see better.

  
Peter nearly choked on his sandwich, “Oh—no, no, that’s not—he’s wanted by the Avengers for something,” he said.

  
Aunt May had grown more adept at peaking into Peter’s job. “He doesn’t have a criminal record,” she said, “Which means those aren’t prison tats. Nice.”

  
“Why are you like this?” Peter said through the bread, “He’s _wanted_ by the Avengers.”

“What’s he wanted for?” she asked, leaning in and speaking like this was a secret. Which it was but Peter was never sure if Mr. Stark kept cameras in the house. He really needed to check for bugs. Peter snorted at his own thought before remembering what she asked.

  
“He ran away when they found out he’s hosting an alien at his apartment and they want to ask him questions. The alien is in his body, or something, and he wants to keep it,” Peter said.

  
“Hot Alien vs. Predator,” she said, “I wonder if the alien is cute?” she crinkled her nose, looking positively thrilled.

  
 “If Mr. Stark is listening, Aunt May is a good person and is not causing an international incident by crushing on a wanted man,” Peter said, “And I need to go out for a sandwich so, I’ll be back by four.”

  
“But you just ate a sandwich?” Aunt May pointed out.

  
“Right, but I’m going out for a sandwich as Spider-Man so I can’t eat it,” Peter said.

  
The doorbell rang, prompting Peter to web the door open from across the kitchen.

  
Aunt May perked up, “Who is this?”

  
“Princess Shuri of Wakanda,” Shuri introduced herself. Her hair was twisted up in a very Flavian way, and her white dress opened up to patterned pants. “I hope it’s no trouble if I steal Peter for a while,” she said with a winning smile.

  
Aunt May looked star eyed, “Please, take him forever.”

  
“Hey!” Peter’s voice cracked, “You can’t do that!”

  
“You won’t be going as Spider-Man but as a Stark intern,” Shuri said, “I see you’re ready to bring the suit but it’s not worth complicating things.”

  
Aunt May froze, drawing their attention to her in her stillness. “I just realized who he is,” she said, “Eddie Brock—from the Brock Report has an alien! One of us, one of us,” she chanted, “If he ends up working for Stark you need to invite him for dinner,” she said to Peter, “I will die, but I’ll die happy about it!”

  
“Okay,” Peter said, “But right now he’s a wanted criminal.”

  
“So are most of the Avengers,” Aunt May said, winking, “Tell him to call me.”

  
Shuri burst out laughing, “I don’t know how to respond to this. Come Peter, before you need to hospitalize me. I don't trust your medical system.”

* * *

  
**14 days earlier...**  
  
  
Eddie needed another coping mechanism because Symby wasn’t about to allow him to have a cigarette or anything stronger. They’d hitched a ride in some rich guy’s yacht hiding in the second storage closet. That had to be a euphemism for something. Being in the dark, they were able to blend into the black, not that the rich men and their various sugar babies were about to look in a place so insignificant as a second storage closet. It didn’t contain enough booze to warrant their attention.

 

Boat rides were already bad, a boat ride driven by drunk ex-frat boys made it that Symby had to distract Eddie, first by swearing at his weak stomach, then by soothing his body by manipulating the chemicals and lastly by repeating his name in an annoying manner until Eddie couldn’t concentrate on the waves anymore.

 

When they arrived in Santa Rosa, Eddie had fallen asleep in his own body and Symby had taken over again. They trekked across the lush greenery and mountainous region to curl up at the bottom of a tree and keep warm with Venom’s safe and ever adaptive carapace.

 

That’s how they found themselves walking along a dirt road towards Santa Rosa looking like they’d been sleeping in the forest after escaping prison, in this case not a metaphor.

 

“It’s cloudy, so it’s harder for them to send drones,” Eddie commented dryly, looking up at the churning sky. Symby rested on his chest, their head poking out of his sweater collar. “Do you think I should start wearing a mask if they use drones? I’m sure the world would love that but it could keep my face hidden.”

 

“ **We can make you a mask** ,” Symby said, “ **Or make your face another face. That way you’re protected from camera drones**.”

 

Eddie froze, his trainers dragging in the dirt and kicking up a cloud. “Wait.”

 

“ **We didn’t think you would need to hide for so long so we didn’t offer**.”

 

Eddie placed a hand on his chest, resting it on the pulsating maw of his other. Symby yawned their great teeth in a mischievous grimace.

 

“We’re covered in dirt, we just spent a night in a closet on a boat and slept surrounded by danger and you’re telling me we could have avoided that by shapeshifting? You know I was going to get a fake ID and you didn’t even recommend this? I didn’t know we could!”

 

 **“Thought it’d be funny to see Eddie on a boat. We weren’t wrong,”** Symby said smugly.

 

Eddie was about to probably swear into the bowels of the universe, but just as he was wondering how to deal with all his anger, a truck pulled up to them.

 


End file.
